


Lullaby

by MissMoochy



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: Aged-Up Peter Parker, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Enabler Wade Wilson, Ficlet, Gen, POV Wade Wilson, Peter Parker Acts Like a Spider, Pre-Slash, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27501835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy
Summary: On candy-stripe legs, the Spider-Man comes..Wade has a nightly visitor. He knows he should fear this creature, but the boy is so pretty...and Wade is so lonely...
Relationships: Peter Parker & Wade Wilson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 78





	Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to make this into something longer, but then I decided to upload this as it is. I might develop it into a longer fi with a more mature rating, down the line if I finish Spideypool bingo.

Wade had had a good day. Some light murder, and then drinks at _Sister Margaret’s._ He’d strolled home, called out a hello to Al and then shimmied out of his Deadpool suit, stripped to his underwear and crawled into bed. Oh, he’d done one thing before climbing under the covers. He’d opened the bedroom window.

It was 3:00 AM when he heard the tapping of gentle fingers on the windowpane. He tapped on his digital alarm clock and the pale green light briefly flashed in the room, illuminating the black numbering on the screen. His body was aching in that usual way, his scars throbbing, his gut clenching as his mutant powers ate away at the vicious cancer that plagued his body. It’s a pretty sucky existence when you can’t get fucking drunk. Talking of things that are pretty and sucky—

Wade slapped a hand to his clavicle. “I know you’re there. Come get your neck juice!” he hollered.

* * *

The creature slithered in through the narrow gap. He always seemed reluctant to open the window any further and was content to wriggle his way into the room. It was like a long-running limbo competition with no prizes. Well, with one prize.

Scuffed sneakers dragged on the floor. The boy could be completely silent when he wanted; He was making the noise for Wade’s benefit. Bless him, he tried so hard to put Wade at ease. ****

He drew nearer, pale in the dull gloom. Wade’s fingers itched to switch the lamp on, but he resisted the urge. The creature didn’t like the light. He hesitated by the bed. His white fingers were splayed out, extended towards Wade. Dying to touch.

“Hey,” Wade whispered. “It’s okay. You know that. Just get on the bed, yeah?”

And he did. He climbed on, his body didn’t rustle the covers or make the bedsprings squeak. It was like he wasn’t even there. He straddled Wade’s legs, blinking down at him.

“My, what big eyes you’ve got…” Wade murmured, raising a hand to cup the boy’s face. He let him, even leant into the touch, his soft curls tickling Wade’s fingers. His wide, lidless eyes were pure black, with no irises or pupils. So shiny that Wade could see himself reflected in them. Aside from the colour, they were very pretty eyes. All eight of them. ****

The boy shivered. _Can’t keep calling him ‘the boy’,_ Wade thought. ****

“You never told me your name?” ****

His visitor blew out a cold breath. It smelt stale, like an old unused room. “Why do you want to know?” ****

“I’d like to know. When I think of you, I want to put a name to a face.” ****

The creature’s laugh rattled like invisible chains. “How often do you think of me?” ****

“A lot. I like it when you...I like the way it feels.” ****

His small shoulders slumped. “That’s my biology. It doesn’t matter who did it for you, any of my kind. You’d feel the same way.” ****

Maybe some of that vodka at Sister Margaret’s had affected Wade because he felt giddy with confidence. Bold enough to lean forward and let his other hand cup the creature’s face, so he could stare into his eyes. “I wouldn’t feel the same way with any of them. It’s you, it’s always you.”

The smile came on slowly, like the sun emerging from the clouds. “Peter,” the vampire said. “My name is Peter.”

Strong hands pushed him back on the pillows and then there was a wet mouth on his throat.


End file.
